Always keep this box with you, I hear my grandfather’s voice say. I also hear the explosions and clashing of bodies from the battle he pulled me away from. No matter what you have to leave behind from place to place, take Milo and take this box. It has everything you will need until you find what you’re looking for.
What are you talking about? I screamed back at him to be heard over the commotion behind us.
Trust me, sweetheart, everything you need is in this box.
The key is around my neck on a chain as it always is. I unlock the box and add my change from the bagel and two of the eight additional twenties I got from the ATM on my walk. I keep my real license, as well as the letter from my mother explaining everything, a picture of my family, and one new, completely unused identity underneath the money in a false bottom. I never count the money I have in there. I just keep adding to it.
I close, lock and replace the box to its hole. I lower my mattress and put the key back around my neck leaving the lights off while I undress. I wrap a towel around myself, open my curtains and just as quietly unlock my bedroom door.
As I close the bathroom door behind me, I hear my grandfather’s voice again, sucking me back into my memory.
“Say these words, sweetheart. Say them three times out loud, and then you need to think about somewhere far away from here and imagine yourself there.”
“Was that him? How did he know where we were!? Is this my fault? Grandpa, what about my—”
“Say them!” I remember my spine going rigid. My grandfather has never shouted at me before. He hands me a piece of very old paper, it’s yellowed and creased. I look at the words and begin to recite them:
Hear these words that come from me
Hide my family from the evil I flee
Keep them hidden until the time
I am ready to fight and no longer hide
Hear these words that come from me
Hide my family from the evil I flee
Keep them hidden until the time
I am ready to fight and no longer hide
Hear these words that come from me
Hide my family from the evil I flee
Keep them hidden until the time
I am ready to fight and no longer hide
“Good, very good. Grab onto Milo’s collar. Now, close your eyes and think of a place and imagine with your entire mind that you are there. When you open your eyes, read the letter in the box.”
I have no idea what the old man in front of me is talking about. I search his eyes, I can read him like a book — all I can see is desperation and love. He has never lied to me or gotten cross with me in my life. I trust him implicitly. I close my eyes and say aloud, “Florida.” When I open my eyes, my grandfather is gone and I’m on a beach with nothing but Milo and the box...
I get lost in the memory for a moment but quickly snap myself out of it. It’s too risky to dwell on my past for too long. I distract myself by making a mental list of things I have to do today as I step into the shower:
One, Milo needs a bath sometime soon.
Two, ask Jeff for more shifts at the library.
Three, get new wraps for kickboxing.
Four, Milo needs a new leash.
Five, Milo also needs more food.
Six, the graphic novels in the teen section are a mess and have to be reorganized.
I add a couple more mundane things and keep checking over my list while going through the motions in the shower.
I shut off the water, pull the curtain back, and step out of the tub. I look at myself in the mirror. Water is dripping from my curly brown hair onto my shoulders and down my back. My mocha skin is smooth from head to toe; joining the gym has made me leaner and stronger, but I still have my curves.
I can see in my reflection a little bit of all of the people, and magical creatures, I come from in every part of me.
I feel a zit brewing on my jawline and put a spot treatment on it before rubbing moisturizer onto my face. Twenty no-muss, no-fuss minutes later I come back into the living room. My still-wet hair is up in a messy bun, my glasses on, face clear of makeup except for mascara which makes my hazel eyes pop. I’m wearing an olive green button down and dark gray slacks with flats. Most of my clothes are dark because Milo sheds like crazy.
I find him and Cali spooning on the couch watching a household cleaner commercial. His solid frame and bushy hair is blocking almost all of Cali’s five-foot-five-inch frame.
As I’m grabbing my keys, jacket, and my bag, I pop into the kitchen and snatch my bagel and hot chocolate from the counter, check my watch, 8:33. Shit, I’m gonna have to jog the whole way to make it to work on time. Cali pokes her head over the back of the couch, looks me up and down and says, “You look like a librarian.”
“Do I? Damn!” I snap fingers and sarcastically add, “Because I was going for cheap daytime stripper.”
“Hey! Those people are just trying to make a living!” Cali fires back.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa. No judgment here, kid. No judgment here.” I say holding my hands up in front of me.
Cali laughs, “Kid? You’re about to turn twenty-three, and I’m only two months younger than you.”
“And don’t you forget it.”
Cali tilts her heard. She looks me up and down again and goes, “Ever thought about getting contacts?”
I nod. “I have, but the thought of having anything that close to my eyes, let alone having to touch them gives me the chills. I have a hard enough time just putting mascara on.” I visibly shiver at the thought of it and Cali chuckles.
“Taking the bike today?” Cali has gone back to watching the TV and doesn’t realize I’ve come up behind the couch.
“I was thinking about walking — well, jogging if I want to actually get there on time. You can use the bike if you want. The chain lock is hanging up with Milo’s leash.”
She jumps slightly at the sound of my voice and responds “Geez you move around so quietly! But thanks, we’ll see if I actually move today. I know I said I would go to the gym before, but I bet you five bucks that me and my honey here will be in this exact position when you come back.”
“No deal, I need every five bucks I can get. You seeing Mickey today?”
Cali’s eye narrow and she purses her lips. “Maybe. She had the audacity to call me childish! Can you believe that?” She looks up at me for my input.
Yeah, I can, I think but outwardly smirk and shrug.
Cali continues, “So I’m ignoring her for a little.” She looks up at me and smirks. “I bet you five bucks she caves first!”
“Now that bet I’ll take!” I say laughing. “You can leave my winnings with the mail.”
Cali laughs with me, “Sure, sure.”
Michaela Westin, or Mickey as everyone calls her, is Cali’s girlfriend. They started dating a few weeks after I moved in with Cali, which is about eleven months ago or so. She’s just over six years older than Cali. Mickey is a personal trainer and owns a small studio where she teaches kickboxing classes and does one on one sessions. It also has a small gym with machines and weights in the back, which is how the two of them met. Cali had signed up for an individual session, but if you hear Mickey tell it, Cali hung around the studio for weeks until a slot opened up just to get her phone number. Cali usually doesn’t deny it.
Although they appear as total opposites, they are honestly a perfect match. Cali is five-feet five-inches; Mickey is the same height as me, five-nine. Cali has a bubbly, outgoing, and — dare I say it — childlike personality; whereas Mickey outwardly appears intense and has a seriously intimidating Resting Bitch Face, although she is a very warm and caring person. Mickey has blue eyes and dark brunette hair with blemish free olive skin; Cali has green eyes and light auburn hair with porcelain skin, her nose and cheeks covered in freckles. Cali is a bundle of constant energy, her movements can appear a bit spastic sometimes; Mickey (unless in a session) is usually calm and there’s a fluidity about her.
&nbs
p; Each one truly brings out the best in the other, and anyone who looks at them can tell, they were made for each other.
“Hey, you home regular time?” Cali asks.
I nod and bend over the couch to give Milo a scratch behind his ear. “Don’t get into trouble,” I say as I straighten up.
Cali looks at me slightly confused and says, “He’s always good.”
“I wasn’t talking to the dog,” I say ruffling Cali’s hair too.
I laugh and jump out of the way of her arm as it comes over the back of the couch to smack me in the leg. Milo starts to get up sensing the playfulness between us. I scratch under his chin settling him back down in front of Cali.
My roommate wraps her arms around Milo again and mumbles, “You ass” into the fur on his neck. Milo must feel the vibration of her voice because he whips his head around and starts licking Cali’s face. It makes us both start to laugh again.
It’s a brief moment that almost lets me forget how I got here and what I’m here for. Almost. The thought sobers me immediately. I turn away quickly before Cali can sense my change in mood. I shake the thoughts off and check my bag to make sure I have everything I need. I count one, two, three, in my head. Phone, keys, wallet.
“Alright, later,” I say walking to the door.
“Make good choices!” Cali calls after me.
“Okay, mom,” I respond. I don’t even need to turn around to see the dramatic eye roll I know I’m getting.
● 3 ●
Make good choices…
Cali’s voice echoes in my mind as I head down the two flights of stairs to the small lobby of my building. I’m three steps from the ground floor when the voice in my head changes.
The voice now is the same one that soothed me as an infant. It scolded me when I was little and talked to me when I had a fight with a friend. It cheered me on at basketball games and consoled me after my first break up. It encouraged me to always be kind and to treat people with respect no matter who they are or what they look like. I know that voice like the back of my hand. I’ve heard it every day of my life, except for the past five years.
My mother.
I suddenly feel an intense ache in my heart that burrows into my very soul. I grab the railing and stop dead in my tracks. I never allow myself to just think about her. If I did, it could put everyone at risk. But right now my mother is the single thing filling my mind.
Every synapse of my brain replays movies from my childhood. It repeats her favorite saying over and over. I can see her face as if she is right in front of me. There is nothing else I want more in the world at this very moment than to see—
No! No, I can’t.
My vision blurs as tears fill my eyes, but I don’t let them fall. I never let them fall. I blink hard to clear my sight and take three deep breaths to steady my heart. I look at my hand still on the railing, the knuckles white from the intensity of my grip, and force myself to let go.
She’s safe, I tell myself. She’s safe because she doesn’t know where you are. She’s safe because he doesn’t know anything. It’s okay. She’s safe. Everyone is safe.
It’s okay, she’s safe. They’re all safe. It’s okay, she’s safe. They’re all safe. It’s okay...
I repeat the mantra to myself a few more times then take a deep, steadying breath, straighten my clothes and glasses, and run my hand over my hair. With a sharp exhale I take the last three steps down, walk through the lobby, and out the door of my apartment building.
I pause just outside under the short awning and look around. I feel vulnerable from my moment on the stairs. I can’t be sure if I actually feel someone watching me or if it’s just the adrenaline still flowing through my system. I decide on adrenaline, leave the safety of the building’s doorway and make a left turn onto SW Jefferson Street.
I’m walking at quite a brisk pace. I tell myself it’s only because I’m already running late. I won’t admit it, but part of me knows my little episode on the stairs really got to me, and that’s why I’m walking quicker than usual.
Before I know it, I’m at the Portland Art Museum and turn right onto SW 10th Avenue. I’ve got my head down trying to get to the library as quickly as possible, and don’t even see Matt until it’s too late to stop myself. I ram right into him, knocking us both down in front of Marty’s Deli, our go-to lunch place.
Matt lands flat on his back with me right on top of him.
“Oh my god, Matt! I’m so sorry! Are you okay? I didn’t even see you.”
My cheeks flush with embarrassment, and my breath catches as I realize just how close we are. I have had a crush on the man underneath me since I first laid eyes on him on my first day working at the library. I scramble to get off of him as quickly as possible.
“That’s okay, don’t even worry about it,” Matt says standing up and dusting himself off. “I should’ve known better than to get in your way when it’s five minutes to nine.”
In my stomach, I can feel the butterflies that swarm every time I see the man in front of me start to flutter. I ignore them and scoff as I cross my arms and say, “Nothing wrong with being punctual!”
Matt imitates me and replies, “No, there is not!”
We hold each other’s gaze for a second before we break into laughter.
Mathias Moorely is, in the plainest of terms, gorgeous. He’s six-two with silky brown hair, light brown eyes, a perpetual tan, and just enough scruff in his beard that it looks intentional, not lazy. Plus he’s got the type of body that makes everything he wears look tailor-made for him. And what a body it is — I may or may not have checked him out during one of Mickey’s classes. He’s funny, charming, insanely smart. Matt checks off every box on the “total package” list. He’s also the sweetest guy I’ve met in the last five years, maybe ever.
He bends over to pick up the messenger bag that I knocked off his shoulder when we collided, giving me a fantastic view of his posterior. God, he looks good in those jeans, I think. I shake my head to clear it of that lingering thought.
“Shall we?” Matt holds his elbow out for me to take. I can feel another flush of warmth creeping up my neck and can’t hide the shit-eating grin on my face as I hold onto his arm and we cross Taylor Street to the library. Those butterflies start to flap again.
I’ve worked at the Multnomah County Central Library for the past thirteen months. As soon as I got to Portland fifteen months ago and realized that this library was that same one detailed in my mother’s letter, I applied for a job. Luckily, my after school job when I was younger was at the public library at home. Although that probably wasn’t luck, it’s much more likely it was my mother preparing me for what was to come.
Matt holds the door open for me as we walk in the main entrance. It’s a Thursday, so the library doesn’t open to the public until 10 A.M., but the staff gets there a little earlier.
I thank him as I walk through. We head over to the Employees Only lounge area. It’s really just a back room with a small table, two vending machines, a coffee maker and a couple of computers for staff use. I take off my jacket and promptly log on to the internal network.
Now that I know this library has what I need, I start every workday with a search through the computer archives. It’s a slow process because I don’t quite know exactly what I’m looking for, I just know it’s here, and it’s not like I can enlist anyone’s help to speed things up.
“Hey, did Cali ask you to go to that taco place tonight with her and Mickey?”
Matt’s question brings me back to reality and I look up from the computer.
“She said this morning she was ignoring Mickey,” I reply.
Matt rolls his eyes in response.
“I know,” I continue. “She bet me five bucks Mickey would cave first. I told her to leave the money with my mail.”
Matt laughs and shakes his head.
Matt and Cali have been best friends and inseparable ever since they first met in kindergarten. Their classmates even gave them the n
icknames Moose and Squirrel because they were always together. Matt was consistently the tallest in their class, at least until the tenth grade, and Cali was always small with a very animated personality.
Matt was the first person that Cali came out to as lesbian; Cali was the first person Matt called when his parents got divorced. They’ve supported each other through everything.
Matt introduced me to Cali a couple of months after I started working at the library. He actually is the one who suggested we live together. I had vented to him about having trouble finding a dog-friendly place I could afford, and he knew Cali was looking for a roommate.
When I asked him why he didn’t just move in there himself, he replied, “Cali is my best friend in this world, she’s like my sister. I love her and there is nothing I wouldn’t do for her. But we tried living together summer after freshman year of college...” Matt got very serious, leaned his head closer to mine and dramatically said, “It. Did. Not. Work.”
My Name Is Not Alexa Pearce Page 2
